A bear doesn’t move like this. A bear doesn’t halt to be quiet.
Nope, this is no bear.
At that, like a predator stalking his prey, I move around the thickness of the trees, eyes assessing for a threat.
When I turn the corner, I find what I am looking for. A camera pointed at my face.
The hand lowers, and there’s a woman. From where I’m standing, I can’t see much of her. I certainly can’t see her face.
She’s got her hair pulled back into a ponytail under a hat, and she has large sunglasses on her face. How can she even take pictures with those on?
The desire to grab the camera from her hand and smash it to the ground flows through me, but I push it back down. Smashing a camera won’t bode well for me.
I take a deep breath and face her head-on.
“You’re trespassing.” I hiss.
“I’m n—”
“No excuses. No lies. You’re trespassing.” I look her up and down. It’s not just her face that she’s trying to hide. Her clothes are also dark as if she were trying to blend. “And by the way you’re dressed, you knew that.” My jaw clenches.
“There must be a mistake.”
“A mistake,” I grit out as I step forward. She steps back, her hands shaking. “How did you gain access to this section of the property?” There are places people can visit, but here . . . Nope.
“I-I came in behind a work truck,” she mumbles under her breath.
“You need to leave now.” My loud voice echoes through the woods. It leaves no room for misinterpretation.
Her head turns to me. I imagine she’s looking at me, but I can’t tell behind the sunglasses. Then her chin tips down toward her camera, and her lips split into a small smile. A smirk maybe?
Is she happy about the turn of events? Her response makes no sense.
“Leave,” I say more forcefully, but she doesn’t go. Instead, she steps closer.
“Do I really have to?” Something about her voice makes my brain scramble to place it. I’ve heard it before, but I can’t place where. If only I could see her face. Then I can figure out why it sounds familiar.
Now, she cocks her head and puckers her lips; she’s flirting.
Or, at least, trying to.
“Yes. You do. And if you don’t get the fuck off my property, I’ll make you wish you never even tried to wake up this morning. Do you understand me?” I snap before I can stop myself, and then I see my mistake.
The fate of the project rests on good publicity.
I inhale deeply, willing a calm presence over me.
This breathing shit doesn’t work. But it gives me enough time to come up with a plan.
To think of what a normal person would do. What a person who isn’t a maniac that wants to end her for disturbing my fucking walk would do.
Charm her.
Pretend not to be the man I truly am.
I force my lips to turn up.
And when her mouth and jaw soften, I know my plan will work.
“Today is not a good day,” I pause, “but if you’ll meet me tomorrow at the coffee shop in town, I’m sure we can talk.”
I’m full of shit. I won’t meet her, and in the meantime, I’ll tighten up security, but I can’t let her know that.
“Really?” she asks.
“Of course.”
She’s very close now. Close enough that her perfume penetrates my nose. She probably thinks it’s alluring.
Spoiler alert, it’s really not.
She’s a gnat.
A nuisance.
And she needs to leave.
This is why I don’t fucking talk to people.
“I look forward to seeing you again.” Her hand reaches out and touches my arm. The moment it does, I hear a cough.
Looking up, I see a scowling Layla staring daggers at where this girl touches me.
I push her hand off.
“Am I interrupting something? I was under the impression we at Concept have the exclusive. If that’s not the case—”
“It’s very much the case.” I say to Layla, and then turn back to the woman. “Leave.” The one word comes out forceful, but I don’t look at her long enough to see her reaction. No. Instead, I look at Layla.
I note her posture and how she’s looking at this woman and realize that she’s jealous. For some reason, I find myself smiling. And even more unlike me, I want to see how this plays out.
I’m amused.
Yet, despite my enjoyment, I also don’t want her to think I’d ever entertain the other woman. I’m taken aback by this revelation and have a sick need to learn more about Layla. This woman who has me acting so out of character.
8
Layla
“Come on, let’s go,” he says to me. He’s not smiling, and it feels unusual for him, but this is what I heard.
The way he looks at this reporter has my spine turning to steel.
Maybe there is truth to the rumors.